


Familiar

by JMount74



Series: Fluffember 2020 [10]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27486841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JMount74/pseuds/JMount74
Summary: It was familiar but also completely foreign, strange, different.They were familiar yet also not the same.He wished with all his heart that he had not left them, but he had made a decision and he abided, lived with, survived that decision.
Series: Fluffember 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997284
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Familiar

**Author's Note:**

> I usually place age order as Scott/John/Virgil but for narrative purposes this story is Scott/Virgil/John.

It was familiar but also completely foreign, strange, different.  
They were familiar yet also not the same.

He wished with all his heart that he had not left them, but he had made a decision and he abided, lived with, survived that decision.

It did not make this any easier.

The driveway looked the same from the road. Two tall pillars and a simple electronic gate with a sensor that opened them automatically. Red brick drive. Beautiful green bushes either side, trimmed so that a car could be seen coming.

The house looked the same from the outside. White cladding, a porch with a large, solid wooden door, decorative glass panel allowing light into the hallway but stopping strangers from being able to see inside. Perfectly tended garden, still with a couple of toys strewn about.

Opening that door was harder than he thought possible. He had dreamed of this moment for so many nights, so many days, that the reality of actually being here and performing the action made him nervous.

Would everything be the same?  
Would everything be different?

Would they remember him?

The open door flooded the hall with light, showing the neat décor within. They had originally planned to keep the paintwork white, but a growing family, especially one with a budding artist that could not stop drawing, put paid to that. The entranceway was now a rich red base with cream upper, mahogany flooring completing the look.

More toys lay abandoned by the side lines, he recognised the cars and rockets and the lone space teddy. The stairs leading up were the same; white balusters standing out against the rich red mahogany newels, handrail and steps. There was a small handprint on one of the spindles – a sticky red mess that spoke of jelly. 

He chuckled softly. That was most definitely a familiar sight.  


What was not so familiar was the quiet. Although, if he thought about it, quiet was something he was used to now. He wasn’t sure how long it would take to acclimatise himself to the hustle and bustle of family life. He only knew that he missed it.

Walking though the hall into the lounge immediately identified a change. The colour was different. When he had left, the lounge was a pale sage green with dark green leather furniture. He walked into a light an airy lounge painted a pale powder blue with a slouchy couch in a dark blue and again toys everywhere. His favourite chair was still there, the familiar green replaced with a matching blue.

His nose twitched. He liked blue – a lot – but he wasn’t sure about the colour scheme. He supposed that being absent for so long denied him the right to choose, to have a say, although he could vaguely remember a conversation – many moons ago – about colours and relaxing and yeah, something getting in the way.

He wondered what else had changed while he was gone.

Entering the kitchen, he was almost amused at the relief he felt when he saw that it was the same. Clean white cabinets offset by jet-back marble worktops and dark grey slate tiles and complimented by pale grey walls. The only splatter of colour came from the terracotta tiles around the stove and sink.

Nothing had changed in here. The appliances still glossy black, little handprints evident all over the place. He remembered wanting glossy cabinets too, until the voice of reason pointed out how much they would need cleaning…

He switched on the coffee machine and stood, lost in thought as the liquid percolated through. He took a mouthful, grimaced, and threw the rest away. That was definitely familiar – he still couldn’t make a decent coffee, although there was a part of him that thought that maybe the years without it may have something to do with that. 

He wondered where everybody was. He knew his homecoming had been a surprise, that no-one would be prepared, but he had not imagined that he would come home to this. The quiet was actually disturbing in its’ unfamiliarity.

Sighing, he turned to the fridge and grinned at its’ contents. Food in this household would never change, and he almost emptied the fridge in his desire for a familiar sandwich. Pastrami on rye with Swiss cheese, pickles and mustard. Oh how he had dreamed of this!

He made and ate two, washed down with something else he had dreamed of – an ice-cold beer. He had missed these simple pleasures, surviving on ration bars and recycled water. Even once he had returned he had endured weeks of isolation and acclimatisation to – well, to everything again.

The food and drink made him slightly drowsy. He still wasn’t used to eating such a large meal. Loosening his tie and removing his jacket, he made his way back into the lounge, aiming for his chair but stopping at the couch instead. Removing his shoes and setting them to the side of the sofa, he stretched himself out, intending just to rest for five minutes before exploring the rest of the house to see what else was familiar, what else had changed.

The front door opening and banging closed woke him with a start. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out of it, but the rude awakening left him slightly disorientated for a long minute. He could hear voices in the hallway, and part of him wanted to rush out there and see them, see how much they had changed. But a bigger part held him back.

He had chosen to leave them, and he had not thought through how hard, how impossibly difficult this had been on him. He wondered how his family had coped.

He could honestly say it had been the hardest thing he had ever, ever endured.

So he stayed sat on the couch, waiting for them to come to him, a little ashamed at his actions, his feelings. He could hear their excited chatter, a little part of him ached that that was not for him. He wondered how long it would be before they found him.

If they stuck to the familiar routine, then it would be upstairs to wash up and change before charging down to the kitchen to eat a snack. Had he washed his cup, cutlery and plate up? He honestly couldn’t remember. Oh well, if he hadn’t it would be the first indication that he was home.

Sure enough, there was thundering footsteps on the stairs, and he smiled to himself. Maybe things were not so different after all. He listened to the sounds of life upstairs, the shouting, the thumping of heavy feet, the running across the upstairs corridor and down the stairs again – despite being told time and time again not to run in case they fell.

They had never listened before and there was a strange comfort in that familiarity too.

Someone rushed into the kitchen, banging the door open. He could hear the water rushing in the sink. No-one said anything so he must have washed up. Soon that one was joined by another…and another. Everyone was now in the kitchen, yet still he stayed sat on the couch in the lounge. He was drinking in the familiar sounds.

He heard the fridge open, and there was suddenly silence. Footsteps headed towards the door and the door opened. He blinked in the sudden light.

‘Jeff?’

That one word caused all other sounds to stop. All he could hear was the beating of his heart and the heaving of his breathing. Yet still he did not move.

Two heads popped around the door at the word. The word ‘Daddy’ was screamed at him.

And suddenly he was being crushed beneath the combined weight of four people. They had all jumped on him at the same time and he was hugging and crying, and they were hugging and crying.

Eventually, they pulled back. And Jeff was relieved that they were just the same, just as he remembered. Only older. And taller.

And there was Scott, talking nineteen-to-the-dozen, there was Virgil quietly listening but with a hand on his leg. There was shy John sitting on his lap just staring up at him.

He breathed a sigh of relief. They remembered him. John had only been 11 months, Virgil 23 months and Scott almost three when he had left for the two-year mission to Mars. It had been the pinnacle of his career and he had been so excited by the opportunity. Lucy had stood by him and agreed. He could not turn down this mission. But the toll it had taken on him had surprised him – it was not the first mission he had undertaken since being married and having a child – and he wondered if Lucy had felt the same. 

Yet here she stood, small smile on her face as she watched their boys crowd her out in their eagerness to see their father. Two and a half years including the isolation periods was a long time in their little lives, and there had been a lot of tears, a lot of fears from everyone. How she had managed to stop the boys from forgetting their father was a mystery to him.

Eventually Scott stopped rabbiting on about whatever he was talking about. He had yet to grow out of talking so fast that no-one could understand him, except for Virgil it seemed, and Jeff had no idea what any of the conversation had been about. Neither John nor Virgil had said a word, John content to snuggle into his father’s chest and Virgil happily buried into Jeff’s side.

But Jeff’s eyes were pinned on Lucy. She was a beautiful as he remembered. 

Lucy came over and picked Scott up, placing him on her lap as she cuddled into Jeff’s other side. And for the next five minutes all they did was hug. As a family.

Eventually, the boys got down and carried on with their normal routine while Lucy bestowed a kiss on Jeff’s lips and got up to prepare dinner. He followed her into the kitchen.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, leaning back against the side as she busied herself making them coffee. ‘Sorry for what?’

‘Sorry for leaving.’  
‘We discussed this. Of course you were going to go.’  
‘I know. But I missed you. I missed them. I missed this.’

Lucy came over and Jeff enfolded her into a hug, clinging on tightly to each other. They shared a kiss, a proper kiss undisturbed by the children in the next room.

‘I don’t want to go through that again.’  
‘What do you mean, Jeff? You’re an astronaut. We both knew this would happen.’  
‘I never realised how hard it would be. And I don’t want to miss another day watching our boys grow up.’  
‘What are you saying?’  
‘I’m saying I’ve already resigned.’

Lucy gasped. She couldn’t deny raising the three boys on her own for the past 30 months had not been easy – thank god for Ruth and Grant – but Lucy had never once contemplated that Jeff would give up his dream for them. Nor would she have ever asked him to. But he’d done it on his own, and she couldn’t be happier.

‘I never want to walk through that door again and wonder if anything is going to be familiar,’ he said. ‘And now I never will. We will grow old and familiar together, my love.’  


Lucy smiled and everything was alright with the world. Nothing was different. Everything was the same. Everything was familiar.

And eight months later another Tracy joined the clan.


End file.
